


who could knowv you better than yourself

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Age Difference, Dubcon or Noncon Moirallegiance, Ficlet, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Memory Alteration, Quadrant Smearing, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 18:49:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10927863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A Bard of Hope's powers can come in handy when quelling the rage of a nerdy adolescent.





	who could knowv you better than yourself

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this on the tail end of a triggered (literally) breakdown   
> its presented as is  
> dont expect too much

"What's shaking, kid?" He's got one curled purple slipper hanging out the window of your tower and his back to you, staring off into the mish-mash bubble landscape of Derse and some land you've never seen before. "Anything new in that silly little thing you call a social life? Been stabbed by a smoking hot dame, or turned down by a fella so pathetic it almost makes you feel bad?"

You snort, briefly considering shoving the lemon-attired mockery of you off the sill. It's a long way down to the street below. Maybe he won't have time to pull his wings out.

It's a ridiculous concept, of course. You know first hand how quick this guy's reflexes are, and opt for tossing one of your rings at the back of his head. "Look, I know everyone hates _you_ because clearly the cursemaker who brought all of you fakes into existence did a rush-job on you, but people appreciate an arcane hero in the making."

True to form, his hand shoots up to catch the golden band before it even penetrates the halo that always seems to shine around him. He turns to look at you and chuckles softly. "Damn, am I back to being a fake already? Thought we established last time that you and I were two halves of the same whole. Fragments of the greater good ripped apart by the dark lord's sinisters mag-i-yicks to save his sorry ass, or whatever you said."

"I don't know what you're talking about, and that's ridiculous. _You're_ ridiculous. Remind me why you haven't dropped double dead already and left me alone?" Frowning, you reach for your ring back. He holds it just out of your reach with a gleam in his eye.

"You ain't calling me a liar, are you, champ?" The fakest pout you've ever seen spreads across his lips, and he even dims his halo for show. "Cause, I mean, my feelings would be _very_ hurt by that. So hurt I might even leave and not come back."

Of course, you know exactly what he's talking about. It's shining clear as moonlight and your face purples a bit with just _how_ well your memory preserved everything. "That didn't count, ok? You're fake, _all_ of you are fake, and not even good fakes. And I would be very, very, v--vw---vv--"

Fuck.

He'd better not be laughing. He'd better not be fucking laughing.

He's laughing.

You curl your fists so tight you can feel your jewelry leaving imprints in the palm of your hand, and the slight blush is a raging violet now. It isn't _fair_. Somehow, despite being beneath you in every way except height and caste, he manages to make a fool out of you every time.

You don't know when he got up, but suddenly one of his hands is on your cheek and his codpiece is poking you in the stomach. The stolen ring drops on the carpeted floor with a gentle clink. And, despite everything, (including the oddly rigid phallic felt sleeve), you find yourself leaning into his touch.

"Hey, hey, c'mon, I was just yanking your chain. Don't need to start busting a faucet over it," he croons, rubbing circles into your face with his thumb.

Were you crying?

You must have stopped as soon as he started comforting you. He's pretty good at that, come to think of it, and you stand there in silence for a few moments basking in the mellow, blissful feeling that emenates from him.

And then he lets you go, taking that feeling with him, and it's like your world just folded in on itself. "Wait, why'd you stop?"

"Guess I just thought I should be going, seeing as you seem to be _very_ convinced that I'm not real and should quote-unquote 'drop double dead already'." He shrugs, one of his fins twitching idly. "I ain't that kinda guy, not gonna hang 'round someone who isn't looking for my company."

"I'm _sorry_ , okay? I didn't mean any of that stuff. Don't go." _Don't leave you._

You're cursing your past self with every fibre of your existence for fucking this up for you. Every awful thing he said towards the other you feels hollow and wigglerish and you just can't understand _why_ he keeps forgetting how wonderful this is.

"You _really_ sure you want me to stay?" He puts his hand over yours and you can sense the barest trace of the feeling. It dances at the very edge of the void it left behind, and you frantically nod.

He plants a kiss on your cheek and you're not quite sure if you have a physical form anymore. Forget magic, forget your destiny, forget all the silly little laws you thought the cosmos were governed by. Everything you need is here with the other half of your fractured soul.

The codpiece starts to rub against you.


End file.
